Go On- Evan's Suitcase
by Echo1317
Summary: Vivian's not addicted so much as she enjoys the high. She's not an alcoholic so much as she likes the buzz. She doesn't date so much as she sleeps around, which is why it works so well with Evan. **Cap/OC, OC/OC part of Go On-verse, warning for recreational drug use**


**A/N** Side story to'Go On'. Goes with Alternate Chapter 17 I posted (woops) 4 months ago. Mostly Vee and another OC, some Tony somewhere in there. For my own amusement, but reviews are always welcome.

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**Evan's Suitcase** **One Shot**

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Vivian's not addicted so much as she enjoys the high. She's not an alcoholic so much as she likes the buzz. She doesn't date so much as she sleeps around.

Which is why it works so well with Evan. He's fun and relaxed and the closest thing to kind any of her regular bed mates have ever been to her. He's by no means gentle, but its not like he's _aiming_ to hurt her. She's tough, anyway. She can take it. She can take all of it.

He doesn't mean it. No, not this one. He's alright. Just a little desperate. Or a lot desperate. Vivian's not quite sure why he's that way, but she can feel it in his kisses, hot and wet, and in the way he fucks her, hard and sometimes brutal. She likes that he's rough with her, its what she deserves.

And he calls her beautiful. She thinks she kind of likes that, too.

And he's honest with her. Even when he doesn't quite know what he's saying. She likes that the most.

Evan starts staying with her, after a while. If he's not out on the street dealing he's always there, anyway. He doesn't have so much stuff, just what fits in the duffel bag he's always carrying around. She doesn't know what's in it, but she doesn't pry. It finds a spot on her coat rack like he finds a spot in her bed and in her life. it's a lovely thing. It's a wonderful thing.

He's this fixture in her life, eventually. Like Tony, but not like Tony. She just kind of assumes- just kind of counts on the fact that he'll always be there. Probably. Maybe.

Until one day, he's not.

Well, that's not entirely true. He's still there when she gets home that day. Stretched out on the floor, bloody nose, eyes open, wide and empty and staring at the ceiling. Empty baggie on the carpet next to him.

No. God, no, please.

Vivian remembers crying. She remembers calling Tony. She remembers that he stayed with her after the paramedics took Evan away. She remembers wanting to take something, but knowing he'd used fucking all of it when he-

He was pronounced dead on arrival. Overdose. And that was that.

It takes her a week before she realizes they left his duffle bag on the coat rack. Must not've realized it was his. Its another few weeks before she goes through it, only after she's packed up and moved everything she cares about to Tony's place. A whole fucking floor all to herself. Who the fuck needs that much space?

Still, she's grateful. Eighteen years old and nowhere else to go, Tony's given her a home. Clean or not. He knows its just a habit.

So she's got Evan's duffel bag and she's got whatever's in it, but that's it. Not even a last name. She should've asked him his last name.

Vivian decides to get drunk before she goes through his stuff. And she puts on the music he liked. She wants her answers, but she doesn't want to remember them in the morning. If she does, she'll do this again sober. But she doesn't think she will.

There's not much there, really. A picture of a man and a woman who he looks- looked- just like. A scrap of paper with a phone number written on it. A woman's necklace, or maybe not a woman's. Just a chain with some charms on it; a bird, a star, a letter M. A love letter, signed with a kiss by someone named Mary. A copy of 'East of Eden'. A few bottle caps. A small bag of seeds.

It's the middle of winter, but in the morning, Vivian takes the seeds and spreads them out over a patch of grass in Central Park. Come spring, when the ground's thawed and she's almost gone through the last of the coke she found in the hidden compartment of the bag, there are flowers where she left the seeds. Daisies. And they're beautiful.

Along with the drugs, there was somewhere around four thousand dollars in cash. She'd always wondered what made the bag so heavy. That goes to some rehab clinic upstate. In his name. Just _Evan_, of course.

It doesn't take very long for Vivian's life to go on. She didn't love him, didn't feel anything more than the initial shock of losing him. Poor kid. Poor boy. He was ok. He was ok.

But she doesn't fuck around so much after that. Doesn't use quite so often. She's one of the best in the field, and while she does miss talking to someone who's not Tony or Natasha or Clint, she doesn't miss not knowing if that someone will be alive when she gets home. By the time she's 19, she's seen so much of life and death and in between that she knows who she is and what she's got and what's going to change that and what doesn't. She's not an addict. She never was.

Of course, she never counted on Steve.

(Who ever counts on a love like that?)


End file.
